


Creed

by twosidedcoin



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Dewey is reckless, Gen, Honorary Duck Family Member Webby Vanderquack, Huey is the best big brother, Louie loves his family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 17:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15635061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twosidedcoin/pseuds/twosidedcoin
Summary: Dewey makes a new friend. The other kids disapprove.





	Creed

“What happened to you?”

The blue triplet- Dewey, maybe?- blinked back at her. Lena had been sitting on one of Scrooge’s many couches waiting for Webby to return from her and her grandmother’s trip when Dewey had happened to pass by. He had his blue sleeves rolled up so she could see his scratched elbows, and he was pressing an ice pack against the side of his face.

He jumped at the sound of her voice, forced to juggle the ice pack in his shock. Lena got a good view of the darkening bruise surrounding his eye and she squinted at it, surprised by the sour sensation that bubbled up inside her stomach at the sight.

“Lena!” Dewey said, hid his hands behind his back, “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m waiting for Webby,” Lena explained as she continued to squint at him, “She gets back today, and we were going to hang out.”

“Oh. Right, right, right,” Dewey agreed sounding distracted as he looked around the room nervously, “Well I’ll just leave you to it then.”

“What happened to your face?” Lena demanded, pointing to her own eye and he must have realized he was busted because he set the ice back on his eye.

“I fell down a hill,” Dewey admitted, “It was an accident. We were playing a game.”

And Lena has played enough of Webby’s games to know that they were dangerous and someone usually walks away a bit more battered- except Webby’s been gone and there was no way they’d play her games without her. Webby probably wouldn’t have cared, but it felt like a betrayal. So there wasn’t really a reason Dewey should have fallen down a hill playing a game.

Then there was the other thing.

“Who were you playing with?” Lena asked.

Dewey’s eyes rolled as he continued looking for something to hold his attention. He must have realized he was busted because he wasn’t trying to look innocent, just waiting for her to finish whatever she had to say and hoped that would be it. Lena felt a bit guilty about that- about how the triplets only seemed to tolerate her because they were all friends with Webby.

“Just a friend,” Dewey replied.

“Does your brothers know this friend?” Lena continued because there was no way cautious Huey would approve of a toxic influence.

Dewey’s eyes found hers as he lied, “Of course. Why wouldn’t my brothers know?”

Lena frowned at him, and Dewey shrank under her gaze. He must have realized she had caught him because he looked nervous, but then his phone buzzed and he was back to being distracted.

“I’ve got to go,” Dewey said distractedly as he turned to go back the way he came, “Have fun with Webby.”

Lena watched him go but the bad feeling lingered in her stomach all day.

* * *

 

Dewey had two bandages on his neck, and three on his left hand. His right ankle was wrapped, and he was fiddling with his phone. Huey and Louie sat on either side of him, sharing concerned looks with each other. Webby couldn’t blame them. When she stared hard enough she could still see the shadow of his black eye.

Lena had told her about the talk she had with Dewey before he returned with a twisted ankle and blood soaked clothes. Donald and Scrooge had freaked out as Granny led Dewey to one of the spare rooms. Dewey hadn’t said anything, and the kids were forbidden to bother Dewey for three days.

None of the adults would tell them what happened, though that night they could hear Donald yelling through the door. His words were indistinguishable, and Dewey never replied so they weren’t really sure what had happened.

Huey and Louie had sat outside the door listening to the yelling with lost expressions when Lena told them what Dewey had told her that afternoon.

“We don’t know of another friend,” Huey had admitted softly.

Louie had said nothing. He just had his green hood pulled over his head as he pressed his knees against his chest and stared blankly into the floor. Webby had sat next to him, offering her silent comfort.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve seen each other hurt nor was it the first time Dewey’s kept a secret from them. It was just hard to think that even the adults were pushing them away from this. It was worst to think that Dewey had limped back into the mansion with tattered and red-stained clothes by himself. If Webby hadn’t been walking Lena to the door then no one would’ve even noticed.

And perhaps that thought terrified them the most.

Dewey turned out to be fine, of course, and when the three days were up Huey and Louie didn’t leave Dewey’s side for an extra two. He never said anything about this new friend except that he needed a friend, and Dewey had been willing to be that friend.

Huey had asked for a name, but Dewey had just squinted suspiciously at him and that was the end of the conversation. Louie had managed to nab his phone, though, and they discovered that Dewey’s mysterious friend was named Creed, and he was a jerk.

Now all they could do was sit and watch as Dewey continued to text the jerk explaining how they couldn’t hang out today because Scrooge and Donald were taking them on a family vacation. By the way his face dropped every time his phone vibrated Webby guessed Creed wasn’t taking it well.

“Are you guys excited about camping?” Webby inquired and- normally- Huey would be and Louie would not but neither seemed much of anything except worried about Dewey.

“Yeah,” Huey hummed whenever no one else replied.

Dewey didn’t even look up from his phone. Webby swung her legs idly as her hands flittered nervously around her knees. She’s never had friends before, and then she met them and a world of possibilities seemed to open up for her. Now she was forced to watch as one of those friends struggled with something he refused to accept help for.

“What about you man?” Louie asked, bumping Dewey’s shoulder in a ruse to catch a glimpse at Dewey’s phone.

Dewey blinked, realized they were talking to him and finally set his phone in his lap. He raised his eyes and met Webby’s gaze for the briefest moment. He looked confused and sad, and Webby swallowed thickly because she can only imagine what Creed was saying to him.

Whenever they had swiped his phone and gone through his messages they’d discovered that almost everything Creed had said was mean or disrespectful or the slightest bit threatening. It made the back of Webby’s teeth grind together as she felt a hot burst of anger roll in her stomach. She imagined Huey and Louie felt much the same.

“Huh? Yeah,” Dewey muttered distractedly, “What about you guys?”

“I’ve never been camping before,” Webby quickly replied, “Not without any weapons at least.”

Dewey grinned at her before he winced, reaching up to touch the side of his face that was bruised. He squinted testily before his phone buzzed once more in his lap, and he risked a glance at it only for his face to fall once more.

“Uh… where are you going Dew?” Louie inquired when Dewey slipped from his seat.

Dewey glanced at him before he explained, “I’ve got to take this call,” and then he disappeared without so much of a second glance backwards.

The three of them shared a look before Huey’s shoulders slumped and he admitted, “I’m worried about Dewey’s new friend.”

“Yeah,” Louie agreed crossing his legs and catching his face in his hands, “All he does is hurt Dewey and make him think he can’t come to us about things. We’re his brothers. He can come to us about things.”

“He just needs time away,” Webby tried, “He’ll come around. He’s smart.”

* * *

 

Dewey disappeared the day they returned from family camping and was gone most of the day. When he did return it was with a smashed phone and more bruises that seemed to crawl up underneath his sleeves. He hadn’t made any sound and probably hadn’t intended to, but Huey had stayed up waiting for him.

Huey hadn’t cared what Dewey thought about his hovering or their snooping. Dewey had a poor habit of falling in with shifty characters, but they usually treated him with kindness in return. With Creed it just seemed to be he was playing into Dewey’s need of attention by convincing him that he wasn’t worth it, and that annoyed Huey more than any other lame attempt Dewey’s come up with to gain attention.

“Where were you?” Huey demanded with crossed arms, and Dewey blinked back at him tiredly.

“Hey man,” Dewey greeted lazily as he fumbled with his broken phone sadly, “You should be asleep. It’s really late.”

Huey blinked down at the device in his brother’s hands before his eyes trailed to the bruises concealed underneath blue sleeves.

“What happened?” Huey inquired worriedly as he inched closer to check Dewey’s newest injuries.

And it wasn’t odd or even shocking to see Dewey hurt, but most of the time that stemmed from the fact that Dewey was careless and always moving. This was different. New injuries seemed to appear quicker than the old ones had time to disappear, and Dewey didn’t even seem to notice as he covered them with bandages all the while coming up with some obscure excuse or explanation on how it was his fault he kept getting hurt every time he left the house.

“This is nothing,” Dewey promised, tugging subconsciously at his sleeves, “I just-”

“Don’t do that,” Huey snapped without really meaning to, “Don’t lie to me and quit making excuses for this jerk. He’s not your friend.”

Dewey blinked at him blankly for a split second before the usual defensive protectiveness Dewey held whenever Creed’s integrity was in question. He clutched his phone tighter, pressed it against his chest. He didn’t say anything, though, probably because he knew that whatever he would say Huey wouldn’t listen to.

“Dewey,” Huey sighed, gentler this time, “ _Please._ ”

Dewey deflated, shoulders slumping as his face fell; his ruined phone fell to his side and he promised pathetically, “It really was an accident. It wouldn’t even have happened if I wasn’t so clumsy.”

“Alright,” Huey relented sadly, “Are you going to tell Uncle Donald you broke your phone?”

“No,” Dewey said quickly and at Huey’s surprised expression he added, “He’ll just tell me I can’t hang out with him anymore.”

“Dewey he’s going to want to know,” Huey tried, reaching out to take Dewey’s arm in a gentle hold and ignored the way Dewey hid a wince.

“You don’t understand,” Dewey continued desperately, “He doesn’t have anybody to help him find it, and it’s not his fault I’m such a klutz.”

Huey’s hands instinctively tightened causing Dewey to give a sharp cry of pain as he pulled his arms back. Guilt flooded the inside Huey’s stomach, mixed with anger as he realized he didn’t know the extent of Dewey’s injuries, and Dewey won’t tell him about it because he believes he deserves it.

“Dewey?” Huey inquired not bothering to hide his concern.

“I’m fine,” Dewey promised, cradling his arms to his chest, “I’m just going to go to bed,” but when Huey intervened once more he added, “I’m really tired Hubert.”

“Your arms need to be looked at,” Huey reasoned, “I’ve got my infirmary badge. It won’t take long. Promise.”

Dewey blinked at him once before relenting. Huey was grateful as he led him to the bathroom, sat him down and pulled out the First-Aid kit from under Scrooge’s sink. Dewey didn’t talk the entire time, but that was okay because Huey found himself unable to shut up. It helped distract him from the fact that Dewey’s arms were a mixed arrange of yellows and blues and blacks.

“What’re you boys doing up?” Uncle Donald’s voice asked from the doorway and Dewey actually leapt from his seat, scattering the supplies Huey had carefully laid out.

Huey wasn’t even angry. It was just further evidence that Creed had done something to Dewey, and none of them had bothered to notice the change he was inflicting.

“I was just taking care of Dewey’s arms,” Huey explained, Dewey’s glare boring into the back of his neck but he was too tired and worried to care.

“Oh?” Uncle Donald asked as he pushed the door open, “Dewey?”

“I’m fine Uncle Donald,” Dewey promised, rolling down his sleeves and ruining the careful work Huey had started.

“He’s not,” Huey protested because Dewey would fight his brothers and Webby on this but he could never say no to their uncle, “Creed broke his phone.”

“He didn’t,” Dewey protested still glaring down at Huey, “I… fell.”

“Dewey,” Uncle Donald chastised with a serious glower, “This has to stop. I’m serious. You can’t meet with this friend of yours anymore. Do you understand?”

“But-”

“Do you?”

“Yes Uncle Donald.”

* * *

 

Creed was tall with broad shoulders and scar running along the left side of his face. His hair was a pale brown and patchy and caked with twigs and leaves, and unlike Gavin this bigfoot didn’t bother to hid his intelligence.

Though knowing their original scam he’d probably tried but Dewey hadn’t fallen for it like Huey had. Instead he’d switched to this major jerk who insulted Dewey every chance he got. Worst Dewey never seemed to notice as he skipped along beside Creed’s long stride.

Creed wasn’t speaking much, but that was because Dewey was chatting away smiling broadly because it seemed he’d finally found someone to listen to all his ridiculous stories. Louie could have done without the way Creed would berate Dewey at the end of every story.

“Have you ever thought that the reason your family doesn’t want to listen to every little thing you’ve done in your day is because that it doesn’t matter?” Creed demanded after Dewey finished his story about the fishing trip they went on with Uncle Donald four days ago, “Also your constant begging for attention is annoying.”

“Oh,” Dewey said unbothered, “I haven’t thought of it like that. You’re probably right though. You’re really smart.”

Creed snorted unamused as he stopped his stride and decided, “This place looks good. Do you need a lift or are you capable this time around?”

“Uh…” Dewey stalled rubbing his arms delicately, “Are you sure this time around? Yesterday you had me climb up a dead tree, and it broke.”

“Well don’t break it this time around,” Creed snapped meanly, “If you weren’t so stupid or useless then you might still have a phone.”

Dewey blinked before agreeing, “You’re right. Sorry.”

“I know. Hurry along,” Creed yawned, and Dewey nodded before beginning his ascent up the tree though he had to go slower than usual due to the tenderness of his previous injuries.

And maybe it was because Louie’s already had an issue with a bigfoot trying to hurt his family or maybe because Creed had a habit of hurting Dewey. Perhaps it was because Dewey’s had enough issues with others pushing him to the side in favor of something else and he didn’t need help from anymore jerks. Or it could have been that Uncle Donald had forbidden Dewey from hanging out with Creed, and Dewey had disregarded that.

In the end it didn’t matter. It left Louie following Dewey into the woods when he tried sneaking out to meet up with his mysterious friend, and Louie realized he probably should’ve alerted someone on his way out but he had been too afraid of losing Dewey.

Dewey made it to the first branch before he had to stop, but he didn’t complain. Not even when Creed barked at him to hurry up, and whatever Creed was looking for he was just going to have to search for it without Louie’s brother.

“Hey!” Louie called abandoning any tact because this has been going on for longer than it should’ve and it made his blood scream for retaliation.

Creed spun, yellow eyes squinting into a hard glare. Usually that would’ve unnerved Louie but he was too aggravated by the whole situation to care.

“Louie!” Dewey called back, “What’re you doing here? You hate the wilderness.”

“I’ve come to take you home doofus,” Louie shot back sounding braver than he felt under Creed’s intense expression.

“He’s not going anywhere with you,” Creed replied smoothly, “Isn’t that right Dewford?”

“Don’t say his name,” Louie snapped hotly, “and we’re going home. Come on Dewey.”

Dewey didn’t move, eyes shifting between his brother and his fake friend uncertainly. Louie wished he would hurry down the tree because Creed’s eyes were unnerving as he continued to study him thoughtfully.

Then a slick smile spread across the bigfoot’s face as he purred, “I know you. Gavin mentioned how clever you are.”

Louie refused to let his face flicker with the fear he was feeling as Creed stopped so he was bearing down on him with a nasty expression.

“And how very obnoxious,” Creed continued in a low tone, “I’ll give you one chance to turn around and go back the way you came.”

Louie swallowed, fear caught in the back of his throat. His eyes seemed trapped on Creed’s intense expression, and everything inside him was screaming at him to go. There was something else, though, keeping him there.

“Not without my brother,” Louie said boldly, and Creed’s sneer dropped to a threatening expression; Louie took an instinctive step backwards but the looming shadow just continued to bare down on him.

Something pressed against his chest as Dewey wedged himself between the two of them and shouted boldly, “Back off of him!”

Creed blinked, probably unaccustomed to Dewey standing up to him but Dewey will always leap in the middle of anything threatening or hurting Louie.

Creed’s eyes sought out Louie’s, lingered there for a moment too long, before they landed back on Dewey and his face morphed into something almost soft.

“Come on now friend Dewford,” Creed said sickeningly sweet, “I was just messing around. I would never hurt such a cute little thing.”

He reached out, probably to grab onto Louie and prove some point but Dewey shoved it away. His back was tense and Louie could picture the angry glare he was probably wearing. No longer a child desperate for a friend but Louie’s older brother.

“I said back off,” Dewey snapped back heatedly, “I mean it Creed.”

Creed squinted, probably wondering what happened to his meek little friend. He must not have a family of his own, and Louie would have felt bad for him if he hadn’t been the cause for the increase in Dewey’s injuries over the last couple of days.

“I’m going to take Louie home,” Dewey continued a little more reserved, “and then we can continue looking.”

Louie knew that if Dewey went back to the mansion there was no way he was coming back out, and Creed seemed to know it too. His eyes darkened, and he discarded his brief nice guy routine in favor of returning to boring down on them threateningly.

“What’d you just say to me, little blue freak?” Creed demanded.

Louie’s anger screamed because this was the person who claimed to be Dewey’s friend for the past couple of weeks, and Dewey didn’t seem bothered or surprised which meant it wasn’t the first time Creed’s called him that. Dewey kept him back with a firm hand against his chest.

“I’m taking my brother and leaving,” Dewey repeated in a slow tone, “Did you understand that time or should I talk slower?”

The fact that Dewey’s voice was now dripping with venom sent an alarm inside Louie’s skull. He reached out to grasp onto Dewey’s wrist as they continued to inch backwards. Dewey didn’t stop him as they moved in sync with each other, and he continued to push himself further in front of Louie. Which meant he was acutely aware of the danger they were in.

Creed’s face just continued to grow more aggressive as Dewey’s words sank in, along with their meaning. Creed might have been pretending to be Dewey’s friend to try and use him to find something, but it was quickly becoming evident that he hadn’t been the only one acting. Though neither Louie nor Creed knew why.

“You little blue clad brat,” Creed snarled, face turning ugly.

“Louie run,” Dewey urged pushing him against his chest, “Go now. Back the way you came.”

Louie obeyed, dragging Dewey along by his wrist. Behind them Creed made an animalistic noise that turned Louie’s insides cold. Dewey didn’t even seemed bothered as he took the lead, yanking Louie behind him.

He seemed familiar with the woods, which wasn’t a surprise because he seemed to disappear inside them every day for the past couple of weeks. It hadn’t been until he had come back covered in blood with a sprained ankle that anybody bothered to question the reasons why.

Louie stalled, yanking Dewey to a stop with him. Behind them he could hear Creed yelling crude threats at them.

“We have to hide,” Louie panted, and the fact that Dewey didn’t argue concerned Louie some.

Instead Dewey just dragged them to the side towards a mossy wall, and he didn’t seem like he was going to slow to a stop anytime soon. Louie released a frightened pant and squeezed his eyes shut, but he didn’t pull away.

Something soft brushed across his face before Dewey finally stopped, pulling Louie towards him and Louie finally risked glancing from the corner of his eyes. They were in what appeared to be a small cave, a wall of moss being the only thing between them and Creed.

Dewey spun around to face him as he whispered, “Louie please tell me you have your phone.”

Louie swallowed before handing his device over numbly. Dewey typed quickly on the screen before turning it off and handing it back. He didn’t look scared, which was how Louie knew that he was terrified. He tried not to think about how he probably served as the majority of Dewey’s stress.

“Dewey?” he asked, “What did you do?”

“I don’t have time to explain it all right now,” Dewey replied in a soft voice, “I need you to go back to the mansion.”

Louie caught his arm when he tried turning away and he demanded, “What’re you going to do?”

“I’m right behind you,” Dewey lied, urging Louie on.

Louie went without complaint because he knew his brother, and Dewey had a plan and- despite Louie’s instinct to force his brother to come with him- he trusted Dewey.

* * *

 

His family was waiting for him when he finally returned. Dewey wasn’t really surprised, Louie had seemed panicked when they’d parted ways, and it had been touching that Louie was worried enough to follow him out into the woods but he’d forgotten to breathe when he caught sight of his brother standing there.

Now his whole family was waiting for him to engulf him in a tight hug- grateful that he returned. Dewey hadn’t been all that worried about Creed hurting him, but most of that was because he’d been terrified of Creed hurting Louie. Louie must have felt the same because he’d been the first to rush to him.

“Hey Lou,” Dewey murmured.

Louie just sniffled in his shoulder, holding him all the tighter. Dewey returned the hold just as fiercely as he finally felt his thoughts slow to a reasonable rate. He’s spent almost a month balancing precariously on this whole situation, and though scams and deceit wasn’t really his forte he had found himself sucked into this whole thing quicker than he had time to think.

And the last thing he’d wanted to do was involve his family, so he’d kept it all to himself, and it had just continued to pile up.

He hadn’t seen an out and it had nearly overwhelmed him. Now he remembered that he hadn’t been alone, and it had been selfish for him to convince himself of such. He’d just been so scared.

Louie pulled away so he could punch him in the shoulder before shoving his hands in his front pocket. Dewey grinned at him, relieved at the knowledge that Louie had already forgiven him. Then Louie seemed to remember something and he adopted a guilty expression.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly.

“Its fine,” Dewey promised before Huey tackled him in a hug.

Uncle Donald and Webby joined in soon after, and it wasn’t until they all separated that he was asked, “Dewey, what’s going on?”

Dewey knew this was coming, but he’d hoped that it hadn’t. He was tired and sore and done with keeping things from his family.

“Creed is looking for some lost treasure in the forest,” Dewey explained, “Except it’s forbidden to his… _kind_. I accidently found him while he was searching and was worried about what he’d do when he found it. So I kind of told him I’d help and spent the last month leading him astray.”

Scrooge perked up at the word ‘treasure’ and Louie probably would have as well except Louie was still staring at him like he was going to fall apart. Whereas Uncle Donald frowned disappointedly and Dewey felt a stab at guilt at that.

It’d just been easy to forget that he shouldn’t have been keeping this from his family because they hadn’t noticed his absence, and it hadn’t been until Creed grew violent and impatient that they realized something was off. And he meant to explain it to them but was afraid they’d try to stop him and something about Creed’s determination at finding the treasure had kept him silent.

He shouldn’t have- especially considering Creed’s anger could have rivaled even Uncle Donald’s. The difference was that Uncle Donald had never hurt any of them.

“And I was going to tell you guys,” Dewey continued as he folded in on himself suddenly feeling very foolish, “but it all just spiraled out of control, and I really hadn’t thought that it mattered.”

As soon as he said it he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Instead of being greeted with anger or betrayal his family all blinked at him with dejected expressions. He chalked the initial shock of that realization to spending a month with Creed and his negativity and he felt worst.

“Dewey you should have come to us,” Huey berated, and his voice wasn’t harsh or hostile but it was the first time Dewey realized Creed’s words had really affected him.

He hadn’t thought it would because he’d been aware of the sham, but a month was a long time and he was too tired to try and discern between what’s true and what’s not.

“I know,” Dewey agreed, “I just thought that you guys would try and stop me or- worst- help, and I didn’t want anybody to get hurt.”

“Like you were getting hurt?” Louie snapped back, and he wasn’t often hostile or hot tempered but he’d never been a fan of his family getting injured.

Dewey shrugged because nothing he said would mean anything. He’d screwed up, and his family was affected in unforeseen ways because of it.

“Dewey,” Uncle Donald sighed, moments from losing it, “This isn’t the type of something you need to keep to yourself. You needed to tell us the moment it began.”

“I know.”

“And you should have never tried to deal with this alone.”

“I know.”

“And I’m angry at you because I love you.”

“I know Uncle Donald,” Dewey promised with a bright smile and a warm feeling tickling at his insides; Huey hugged him again and Dewey hugged back.

“I hadn’t wanted him to hurt you,” Dewey repeated brokenly, “You don’t understand how volatile he became.”

Huey nodded in his shoulder as Louie and Webby joined. Uncle Donald and Scrooge whispered privately to each other, glancing at the children huddled together. Dewey blinked up at him and realized he shouldn’t have kept this from them. He shouldn’t have tried to deal with this himself.

He should have gone to his uncles instantly because they were adults and family and knew how to deal with things like this. He should have gone to his brothers and Webby because they would have done anything to support him, and probably would’ve known how to handle it better than Dewey had.

He should have leant on his family more because that’s just what families did.


End file.
